


Glad He's Gone

by DarkMoonMaiden



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity Outside of Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonMaiden/pseuds/DarkMoonMaiden
Summary: Everyone seemed to know but Peter that his boyfriend was cheating on him. He's left to pick up the pieces, and Wade helps where he can.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Original Male Character, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 359





	Glad He's Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo yeah. This is a vent fic. Lol. Uh. Take with a grain of salt?
> 
>  **Also:** this is a bastardized version of the MCU and the comicverse. Tl;dr is Infinity War didn’t happen but Civil War (mcu civil war, not comic) did, also Peter is college age. It’s not important. Don’t worry.

It would have been _comical_ in any other situation. Even as Peter walked in on his boyfriend making out with a girl he recognized from lecture and the rest of his brain filled with static, he let out a disbelieving laugh.

This was something out of a bad romance movie.

The laugh was loud enough to be heard over the party's music and was what made Jordan’s eyes open dreamily. He froze when he made eye contact with Peter, and he slowly pulled away from the girl, his mouth open in horror. His lips were red and his cheeks were flushed, and Peter was reminded of that face when they would curl up together and make out during their dates.

Peter turned around, mind still whirling as he walked down the stairs of the apartment complex. He wasn’t moving particularly fast, though, and Jordan caught up with him as soon as he had stepped out onto the street.

From there, it was all the usual shit. It was a mistake, he was just drunk, it hadn’t meant anything. Peter allowed him to talk, sitting on the stairs and watching with a blank expression as Jordan got more and more frantic in his explanations. 

“I mean, it’s obviously something you’ve thought about. Y’know, an open relationship? I’ve heard how you talk about your coworker, _Wade_.”

Peter’s thoughts tried to catch up, and when he realized he was talking about Wade _Wilson_ \--the mercenary, the guy he’d hated and then tolerated and then actually _enjoyed_. If he hadn’t been in a romantic relationship with someone, he might have pursued it, but as it stood, he was happy having him as a work friend, and had only briefly mentioned him to Jordan.

He’d respected Jordan’s boundaries and their relationship, and hadn’t gotten close to Wade. Now, it was obvious Jordan hadn’t done the same.

At one point during Peter’s soon-to-be ex-boyfriend’s monologue, a woman uncomfortably cleared her throat to sneak past them, shooting wide-eyed, disbelieving looks at the two of them as Jordan talked. Peter found his gaze following her just as a way to look away from the train wreck happening in front of him, and he was drawn to the girl from earlier that was standing in the doorway, watching them nervously.

By the time he’d tuned back in, Jordan seemed to be waiting for a response.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, so you can take as much time as you want,” Jordan said anxiously. “Sasha’s really nice, and I think you’ll like her.” He motioned for Sasha to come out as Peter blinked owlishly, trying to process what Jordan had said to him.

Oh, right. A threesome.

Peter stood up from the stairs. “I think I’m gonna go home,” he said thoughtfully, “and if you try to text me again, I’m keying your car.”

Peter ignored Jordan calling after him, hearing a feminine voice gently telling him to let it go, and Peter felt the first pricks of anger and grief as he processed his feelings. 

He cried on the subway home. 

***

The party had been on a Saturday night, and Peter didn’t leave his apartment the next day. 

His eyes were puffy and red, and he’d stayed awake in bed that entire Sunday, nursing his hangover and watching the texts and missed calls from his now ex-boyfriend roll in. The texts had been progressively getting more aggressive and harsher as Peter treated him to silence, and Peter finally just turned off his phone. (His thumb had hovered over the ‘block caller’ number for what felt like hours, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not yet--it felt too final).

He had wanted to stay home again on Monday, to skip out on his meetings with Tony and the other Avengers. But he knew it would end up causing more harm than good, especially when Tony sent him a text threatening to drag him there if he left him alone with Fury.

Peter had had another text. Wade. It had been some bad picture of an outdated meme, and any other time, Peter would have laughed and searched for one to send back. But now, he just locked his phone and pushed himself out of bed.

It was either leave early, or don’t leave at all, so Peter ended up an hour early to the meeting. He rode the elevator up to the main floor that housed most of the lounge areas, and braced himself as he entered the room.

"Hey, kiddo," Rhodey said, giving him a smile over the rim of his coffee cup. In the meeting room, Tony's argument with Fury over the phone was muffled, but it was obviously heated. "How's it goin'?"

"Good," Peter replied automatically. He didn't offer anything else as he bee-lined for the coffee, trying to keep himself busy before his thoughts could spiral.

"Late night?" Natasha asked with a smirk, barely glancing up from her magazine. "How's Jordan?"

The dreaded question. Peter knew it would inevitably come up: he'd spilled the secret months ago, and they'd teased and held it over his head since. Tony had seemed suspicious, but Natasha had seemed to encourage the small bit of normalcy--after everything had happened with Captain America, and the crippling fear from her sheer presence had started to wear off, Peter had started to build what he would almost call a friendship with her, or as close to a friendship as they could get.

Peter cleared his throat. "We broke up."

Rhodey froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth, and Natasha stilled midway through turning a page.

"Oh," she said uncomfortably. "Well...I'm sorry to hear that, I guess." 

"Sorry to hear what?"

As if it couldn't get any worse, Tony had exited the meeting room, still looking slightly irate. Peter let out a tight breath, dumping his coffee in the sink and setting the cup down. He'd quickly lost his desire for coffee as his stomach rolled.

"I broke up with my boyfriend."

Tony made a tsking noise. "You were always too good for him. What happened?"

"Tones, maybe now isn't the best time--"

"I saw him making out with a girl at a party," Peter said, cutting into Rhodey's caution. He might as well rip the band-aid off, considering if he _didn't_ Tony would find out anyway.

"Well, at least you found out eventually."

Peter's froze. "Eventually?"

"I mean, it was kinda obvious, kid," Tony tried. In the corner of his eye, Peter saw Rhodey desperately making a cut off motion with his hand. "I'm surprised it took you so long."

Peter stared at Tony blankly, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. It came out more hysterical than he meant it to, and judging from Rhodey and Natasha's faces, they felt the same way. Natasha had cautiously put down her magazine and was watching them from her spot on the couch.

He didn't care. Without saying anything, he turned on his heel and walked out, ignoring calls for him to come back.

Tony had known. Of _course_ he had freaking known. He had probably been keeping tabs on Peter's boyfriend--now ex-boyfriend, he corrected himself--since he'd first heard his name. Why hadn't he told Peter? How long had it been going on? Who _else_ knew?

Ned was at his apartment when he got home. It made Peter do a double take, and then he cursed himself: days ago, before everything, he'd invited Ned over to hang out. Messaging Ned to reschedule for later hadn't even crossed his mind, and frustration lanced through him. Was there anything else he could fuck up?

"'Bout time you got home. Do you know where the glue--whoa!"

Seeing the crumpled expression on Peter's face, Ned almost dropped the Lego model he had been painstakingly putting together in his scramble to set it down as he followed Peter into the bedroom.

Telling Ned went just as well as Peter had hoped: Ned looked at him pityingly, with an expression that said he had seen it coming.

“I mean, he never really..." He paused before starting again. "You seem way more into him than he was into you,” Ned said delicately. “We talked about it weeks ago. It wasn’t like everything was going smooth--”

“Ned, listen to me, if you’re just gonna tell me that I should’ve seen it coming, I need you to get out. Right now.”

Ned was quiet, and Peter felt his throat well up. “Thought so. I think you should leave.”

“Petey, I don’t wanna leave you when you’re like this right now.”

“Buddy, I love you, but I really, _really_ don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

It was the nicest thing he could get out. The last thing he wanted to do was take out all of the emotions swirling in his chest on Ned, but his pride stung.

Ned stayed on the edge of the bed for a second longer before he sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” he said. Peter made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t offer anything else. 

He heard Ned hesitate in the doorway, before he left the apartment, locking the front door behind him.

(Some vicious part of Peter said that he needed to change the locks on his door because Jordan still had a set of keys, and when he did, he wasn’t giving _anyone_ a copy).

Pulling a pillow over his head, Peter screamed in frustration.

***

Peter didn't sleep that night. Every time he started drifting off, he just saw Jordan making out with someone else. And everyone's words haunted him, making him replay every single interaction he could remember with his now-ex.

God, had Peter been the last one to see everything? Was he just _stupid_? Aunt May had always told him he was too trusting of people, especially when he had a crush on them.

Aunt May. God, Tony knew, which meant Happy knew, did _Aunt May_ know? Had the driver told her?

It left a sour taste in the back of his throat. Him and his aunt had always been open and honest with each other, especially after May first discovered he was Spider-Man. Having to find out through her boyfriend, rather than from Peter himself, felt like it would be a disservice. And the last thing Peter wanted was another person to be unhappy with him.

Almost on autopilot, he rolled out of bed and plodded out the door. The subway ride to his Aunt’s neighborhood was uneventful, and she left the door unlocked for him after he texted her. 

She was in the kitchen when he walked in, humming an off-key tune as she unboxed the takeout for them. She was in her usual ‘out of work’ attire, jeans and a plain sweater, but the familiarity of it made his eyes well up yet again. God, he had been crying _so much_ the past few days, an embarrassing amount; his only solace was that most of it had been in the privacy of his own home, away from prying eyes. (It didn’t make him feel much better).

“Were you on your way to someone’s house?” Aunt May asked. “Not that I’m not excited to see you, but you don’t get to make it out here that much, with work and _superhero_ stuff--Pete?” 

Peter walked up and let his head fall against her back. He’d done it so many times when he was a kid, getting bullied at school or trying to understand things. It felt comforting to do, and his throat closed to the point he wasn’t sure he could get the words out.

“Me and Jordan broke up,” he mumbled into her back, voice cracking. 

“Oh, honey,” she sighed sympathetically. May turned around and wrapped him into a tight hug. 

Ushering him to the couch, she handed him a plate of food and sat next to him, listening intently as he talked and making appropriately upset and outraged noises as he told the story.

“The fucking _audacity_ of that man,” May hissed from behind her teeth, angrily jabbing a piece of broccoli with her fork. “Who does he think he _is_ ? Who gets to have a goddamn _threeway_ after they get caught cheating?”

“He obviously thought he’d get away with it,” Peter snorted dryly. 

"The next time I see him, I'm chopping off his balls. No, seriously, don't give me that look."

Later that night, Peter watched TV while May worked on her laptop. His legs were thrown over her lap, and she was resting the laptop on them. Peter had picked the first bad movie he’d seen on Netflix, and it was playing on low volume while he held a pillow to his chest.

“I just--I feel stupid, y’know?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

She glanced at him over the rim of her glasses, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” Her voice carried the usual tone that warned him to speak carefully, or else she’d toss a pillow at him and call him ridiculous.

“Well, he was kind of a scumbag, and it wasn’t exactly like we were deeply, madly in love.” He picked at a loose string on the throw pillow he was clutching. “I never saw us being together for longer than two years, tops."

"Two years is a long time, hon."

"I guess. It feels stupid to...be this upset.”

“Don’t feel bad,” May chided him. “This was _traumatic._ Even if the _manchild_ isn’t worth crying over, his actions definitely are, and you liked him. It hurts when your trust gets broken.”

Peter’s eyes stung, and he refused to look up from his plate in case he started crying again. Aunt May shifted to wrap her arm around him, and set aside her laptop to watch the movie with him.

***

Later that night, Peter curled into his old room at Aunt May’s apartment. It was surreal (the bed was new, he’d taken his old one with him when he moved the first time), but the smell of the familiar laundry detergent was comforting.

He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the open text conversation with Ned. After a few moments and a few false starts, he finally found a message worth sending and sent it.

 _Wanna go rub Vaseline on his car_?

It only took Ned a second to respond, and it was a picture of rows of Vaseline jars at the store with the caption: _already gettin the goods_.

Peter called Ned, and both of them dissolved into tears and laughter.

***

Peter had been slowly sifting through the shelves of the hardware store, searching for a new door lock, when he ran into Wade Wilson.

The mercenary seemed as surprised as Peter, holding a basket that had a crowbar and duct tape. He was dressed in casual clothes, the hood pulled up to hide his scars.

"Petey," he greeted him, a pleased noise in his voice. Peter's heart rate spiked when he saw the genuinely happy smile spread on his face. "Fancy seeing you here."

“Yeah, I had some errands to run," he said before his attention to drawn to what Wade was buying. "What’re you up to?”

With his smile still in place, Wade snagged the crowbar out of his basket and held it behind his back. “Nothing.”

Peter stared at him, nonplussed. “Sure. Fine.” 

He felt too emotionally exhausted to bother fighting with anyone, let alone Wade. If it ended up being a Spider-Man issue, then it would be a Spider-Man issue. Right now, he was Peter, and the small joy he got at Wade being happy to see him was enough.

"Well, I'm gonna just..." Peter trailed off, waving as he turned and blindly grabbed the first lock he came into contact with.

“Don’t get that one.”

Wade’s hand darted out, grabbing Peter’s wrist. Both of them froze, and Peter’s muscles tensed as he prepared for a fight. He could never _quite_ tell what sort of mood the mercenary was in, or what exactly he was planning, and the _crowbar in his basket_ wasn't easing his nerves.

It _didn’t_ come down to a fight though, because only a few seconds later Wade seemed to realize what he’d done. Letting out a high-pitched, nervous laugh, Wade dropped his wrist, going back to clutching the crowbar.

“I just--it’s not a good one. Super weak. Easy to pick.”

Peter made an unimpressed noise, letting his arm slowly drop to his side. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but he was already calming down. For whatever reason, Wade never set off his senses as much as others had. Even when Wolverine had joined the team, the burly man had set off a few red flags in Peter’s mind. 

But Peter hadn’t felt that around Wade...well, _ever_ , including when they hadn’t been more than acquaintances. The handful of times Peter had tried to fight him, Wade had only drawn his gun once, and that was to shoot a warning shot at a police officer that was trying to take down Spider-Man.

“This one’s better.”

Wade jerked forward and grabbed a different box off the shelf, holding it out to Peter stiffly. “It’s--really good.” He cleared his throat. “I dunno, I read about it in a magazine.”

“Do...you _usually_ read magazines about locks?”

“I was more interested in the woodcarving stuff, but I ended up reading it.”

Peter huffed in laughter, and he slowly reached out to accept the box. “Thanks, I guess.”

Wade seemed surprised by his response, and grinned with relief, his whole body relaxing. 

"So, doing a home renovation thingy? A lil' reno to brighten your day? I didn't take you as a DIY sorta guy."

Peter snorted, wandering through the aisles next to Wade. "I'm not," he agreed. "But it was time to change the locks. I, uh, lost the keys," he added hastily when he saw Wade's eyebrow raised. "Dropped them, like, a couple of days ago. Don't know where they ended up." He gave Wade a sheepish grin and shrugged. "And locksmiths don't really _mesh_ well with...secret identities." He whispered the last bit, and Wade made a sound of agreement.

"Then do you want some help?"

Peter stilled. “I--I don’t think that’s a good idea--”

“No, no, of course not!" Wade rushed to say, eyes wide. "I--I wasn’t trying to _imply_ or anything or--or make you _uncomfortable_ I just thought you might want some help, or something. It can be kind of a pain if you don’t know what you’re doing. Not to say that _I_ have a lot of experience, but I figured we could suffer together? But don’t worry, it’s fine. That’s not first date material.”

Peter let him ramble, smiling fondly at him. “I appreciate it, Wade,” he finally intervened when Wade paused to take a breath. “Really, I do.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “If I have any questions, I’ll call you.”

“Oh good--wait, _really_?”

“ _Bye,_ Wade.”

Three stripped screws, two crumpled instruction packets, and a dozen Google searches later, and Peter finally gave in and FaceTimed Wade.

The man picked up the call wearing his Deadpool mask. There was a commotion in the background, but he didn’t seem particularly bothered.

“Hey, Spidey,” he said cheerily. “What’s up?”

Peter stared in disbelief. “If you’re busy, we can talk later,” he said, disbelieving. “It’s just a...stupid question.”

“Hold on--” 

Abruptly, the screen faced the sky, and there was the sound of a gun going off, then silence. Peter’s blood ran cold.

“Okay, back,” Deadpool said cheerily, focusing the screen back on him.

“Wade,” Peter said, voice faltering. “Did...did you just--kill someone?”

“What? No, no!” The camera shifted yet again, and panic spiked in Peter before he saw masked men groaning and shifting on the floor. “It’s a paralyzing agent. Jeez, baby boy, I wouldn't _kill_ someone in front of you."

"That's _definitely_ happened before."

"Only to people who deserved it. So what's up?"

***

They had bonded over their love for engines--their first date had been in a garage with hard cider (Jordan had remembered Peter mentioning in passing how he didn’t like beer, and Peter was head over heels) as Jordan let him see his projects, smiling and laughing in his dorky way that warmed Peter’s chest.

He’d seen the picture on Jordan’s Instagram, of him and the woman leaning against his car, midlaugh. His arm was slung over her shoulders, and the caption had said something sappy about how there was no one he’d rather be stuck on the side of the road with, fixing cars. 

It hurt a lot more than Peter had thought it would, and he finally found the strength to block him and delete Jordan's number.

***

Crime didn't exactly care that he had a broken heart, and Peter still had to go out as Spider-Man. It felt wrong, when all he wanted to do was curl up in bed. When he inevitably had to see the other Avengers, they seemed appropriately chagrined, with Tony even going as far as offering him access to his lab.

(Peter took him up on that offer, of course. He was going to milk this situation for as much technology as he could).

He was prepared to just ignore The Incident and never speak to his ex-boyfriend again, but the flowers at his doorstep soured his mood. It had a ribbon tired around it, and when he looked at the little card peeking out of it, he read 'please call me :( i love u.'

He promptly threw them in the trash and went on with his day.

***

“Go on a date with me.”

“Abso- _lute_ -ly not right now, Deadpool.”

“But you’re newly single, right?” he whined. “I heard you talking about it. You’re a free man now, and you _can’t_ deny the sexual tension we have going on right now.”

“Wade, _look around_ ,” Peter yelled, barely dodging a car that was thrown at him by the raging creature in the streets. “We can talk _later_. How did you even hack into my earpiece?”

“Wait.” Deadpool dropped his gun and clutched his shelf. “Was that why you were getting new locks yesterday? Is something wrong? Did they _try_ anything? No one gets to threaten my Spidey-baby--”

“Nothing like that,” Peter rushed to say. “God, can you _just focus_ \--”

“Not when some very troubling clues have led to some very troubling conclusions! Listen, if someone’s _bothering_ you--”

“Wade, I _told_ you--”

A tentacle swung through the air, smacking Wade and sending him flying almost a block away. Fear and adrenaline thrilled through Peter, but it was tempered by the nonstop cursing and dialogue from Wade as he picked himself back up and threw himself at the monster, with his suit slightly torn but otherwise no worse for wear.

The conversation on hold, Peter swung from a building back into the fray.

***

Michelle had showed up in his apartment so suddenly that Peter had shrieked. 

She tossed a shirt in his direction. “C’mon, we’re getting drinks.”

“MJ, what the hell—“

“I’ll go wait in the living room.”

He’d thought about telling her to leave him alone so he could wallow in his bed for another few days, but he knew better than to try and go against her. When MJ got something in her head, she wouldn’t stop until she’d reached her goal. 

He pulled on the T-shirt that had been thrown at him, and grabbed the first pair of jeans he could find off the floor. 

MJ was waiting on the couch, toying with a rubber band on her wrist. She perked up when she saw him and heaved herself to her feet. 

“Gin and tonics?”

Peter stared at her without comprehension. “...Gin and tonics,” he repeated slowly. 

“If we’re gonna sit and have a mushy heart to heart, I need to have something to drink to get me going.”

Huh.

Some part of him was starting to freak out, saying it wouldn’t end well and it could just be another bombshell about to land on him, but the rest of him was too tired to care. At this point, it was better to get it over with, and decide later if he was just developing a martyr complex.

MJ hadn't really known what to do about the whole situation, and had stayed mostly radio-silent. Peter didn't take it personally; she had never been one to know how to deal with break-ups, and had told him early on in their friendship that sometimes she decided silence was better than her making it worse. (He'd agreed with her).

They rode the subway in almost complete silence. The one time Peter had tried to ask her what she wanted, MJ had hushed him, chiding that she wanted to wait until they were at their “safe place.”

Said safe place was a small, sleepy bar a few blocks from Peter’s apartment. The primary customers they catered to were older, retired men, who wanted a quiet place to sit, laugh, and drink with their friends.

Peter stiffly sat in a booth that was further in the back as MJ got their drinks. He tried to push away his nerves by toying with one of the paper coasters on the table, giving a familiar waitress a weak smile when she waved at him.

Finally, MJ returned to the table, settling a gin and tonic down in front of both of them.

“Okay, _now_ we can talk.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me anything about what you wanted to talk about, so we can’t,” Peter said in a deadpan, taking a small sip from his drink.

“I mean, we haven’t talked in a couple of weeks. There’s only really one thing to talk about.” A pause. “You’re gonna make me spell it out, aren’t you?”

“I mean, there’s a lot you could be apologizing for, so I should probably know _what_ you’re spelling first, right?”

MJ muttered under her breath, “I think that’s vaguely more concerning.” Louder, she said, “I was referring to how I handled the whole _Jordan_ situation.”

It was exactly what Peter had feared. Another friend, trying to help or prove that they’d known Jordan was bad from Day One. Peter’s shoulders tensed, and he took another longer pull from his drink.

“Fuck--okay, lemme start again.”

MJ took a deep breath, running her fingers anxiously through her hair. “I’m sorry.”

It had startled Peter so much that his mind went blank. He stared at her with wide eyes, only managing to let out a questioning, confused sound.

“I just--I was totally a dick to you. You were really struggling, and from what Ned told me, everyone's been an asshole and ignoring you or pretending like they saw it a mile off." She took another sip of her drink, and grimaced.

"Please stop pretending that you like gin and tonics," Peter finally burst, reaching out and dragging her drink away. "It's really painful."

"It's their _specialty_ here, and it's the drink we _always_ get here," MJ fought, trying to snatch her drink out of the way. She scowled at him when the cup stuck to his hand, and relented. "Stop distracting me. I'm trying to be nice."

"I know, I know," he ceded, raising his hands and letting her take the drink back. "But you really don't have to try this hard, okay? We've established that you're not good at this stuff. You didn't mean it _like that._ "

"Yeah, but still. I kinda screwed you over on the friendship front, and I'm sorry about that."

It...felt nice to hear it out loud, to hear someone actually and directly apologizing for their actions. Peter gave her a small smile.

"You're forgiven, MJ. Don't worry."

She didn't look fully convinced, brow furrowed.

“I don’t expect everything to be okay right away,” MJ added. “You don't have to pretend to be okay. I mean, I _wish_ everything could be fixed with one five minute apology, but...it was really shitty, the way I treated you."

“Again, I know you didn’t mean it like that, MJ,” Peter repeated himself. He nudged her leg under the table with his foot. “But...thank you for apologizing.”

She gave him a small, watery smile. Some of the tension drained from her body, and she took one more sip from her gin and tonic before giving up and getting a beer from the bartender.

They fell into a companionable silence, and after a few drinks they started chatting again, alcohol easing the conversation and laughs. 

“So, Wade, huh?”

Peter blushed, finishing the last of his drink as the bartender brought them another round. He’d been filling her in on the week, and hadn’t left out any details about his numerous conversations with Wade Wilson. While MJ didn’t know who the man was (not necessarily--she knew he was in the same world as the Avengers, but not his superhero name), she had narrowed in on their numerous run-ins.

“Yeah, kinda,” he finally mumbled. 

He hid his face when MJ gasped dramatically. “You’re actually _admitting_ to a crush?” she asked in disbelief. “No denial? No weeks of talking about him nonstop while pretending you don’t like him, before calling me at one a.m. to admit it?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be _nice_ to me right now? Cut me some slack, dammit.” Still, he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.

They ended up drinking a lot more, as had been planned. MJ and Peter were both seconds from toppling over with every step, but still managed to hail a taxi and make their way to his apartment building. (MJ may have gotten into a fight with the driver, and Peter apologetically left a large tip when they reached the building).

They got up to his apartment, and collapsed in his room, MJ on the bed and Peter on the floor, curled up with a blanket and pillow.

“Remember freshman year, when we lived in that hellhole apartment?” MJ asked, pressed against the corner of the room to stave off the dizziness.

“‘Course I do,” Peter mumbled, a grin widening on his face even as he felt his stomach roll dangerously. He clutched the bowl that would hopefully hold any vomit closer to his chest. “Remember when you had to yell at the neighbors because they wouldn’t stop having loud sex?”

She snickered. “Yeah. That was fun.” She was quiet for a second, and Peter was dozing off when she spoke again. “You know me and Ned aren’t gonna ditch you, right? We’re kinda emotionally stunted but we’ll still be there.”

“MJ, I _know_ I could never get rid of you guys. I’m stuck with y’all forever.”

She threw a pillow at his head, missing by a mile. “Glad you’re aware of your predicament.”

The next morning, they met Ned at a diner for breakfast, more than a little hungover. There were occasionally a few uncomfortable pauses and lulls in conversation, but it almost felt like things were back to normal.

***

When Wade found out, he promptly showed up on Peter's doorstep to get more details.

“Don’t worry, babycakes,” he rushed to say when he saw the way Peter’s eyes darkened. “I was in the air vents when I heard the knock-off Iron Man talk about it.”

“You were in the _vents_?”

“Listen, that’s not important right now. What _is_ important is you telling me the name, so I can go kill my next target.”

“That’s--none of your business, Wilson,” Peter finally managed to grind out from behind his teeth. Blood rushed to his head, cheeks burning in embarrassment and shame.

This was exactly what he _didn’t_ want. He didn’t want to see the pity in Wade’s eyes (was he always so expressive through his mask, or had Peter just learned how to read the minute signs?), or let him know that Peter had been _stupid_ enough to trust an asshole that everyone had warned him against. The realization that the rest of his team had been talking about him, too, which made him want to curl in bed and never leave.

He pushed past Wade, ignoring the man’s protests.

“Petey, hold on, that’s not what I meant.”

He jogged around and stood in front of Peter, causing the younger man to almost run into him. Wade pulled off his mask so Peter could see his expressions easily.

"You were acting suspicious, and I got worried." Wade's eyes were earnest. "I didn't know if you'd been hurt or something."

"Yeah, but _ask_ ," Peter said from behind his teeth. "Don't invade my privacy like that, so you can see if you can ask me out." The words came out harsher than he meant, and he quickly backtracked. "That came out meaner than I wanted it to. It's...it's been a rough few weeks, and a lot of that is from people not telling me things."

Wade still looked hurt, but some of the sting had obviously been soothed. He leaned in a bit closer, having to tilt his head down so he could look into Peter's eyes.

“I...promise I’m not trying to take advantage of you being down to ask you out,” Wade said hesitantly, "or look stuff up you didn't want me to know." His voice was small. “I just don’t like seeing you so sad, y’know?”

Peter's heart melted. He looked like a giant kicked puppy, sheepishly rubbing his neck and not looking up at Peter. It was so genuine and sweet that Peter couldn’t stand it.

“I wasn't thinking you were taking advantage of me, Wade,” Peter said gently. “Not in the slightest."

“Okay. Okay, good.”

Wade sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island, and Peter shifted from foot to foot, struggling to find something to say.

"Well...what can I help you do right now?" Wade said, twisting in his seat to face Peter. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, but I wanna hear what _you_ need from _you._ "

Peter studied Wade, and felt whatever part of his heart was still in tact melt with the rest of him. 

“I just want a hug right now,” Peter whispered.

“ _That_ is something I can help with.”

Wade held open his arms expectantly, and Peter melted into his hug. He buried his face in Wade’s neck, wrapping his arms around Wade’s waist. The mercenary cradled the back of his head, leaning against the chair he'd been sitting sitting in.

“Just so we're on the same page, I’ll still go take care of that ex for ya.”

“Please don’t do that.”

Wade huffed in his ear, and Peter chuckled.

"So, drinks?" Peter said. He was muffled from his position wrapped around Wade, but he refused to move. "There's a cute place that serves a mean gin and tonic."

"I hate those."

"It's for the _culture_ , Wade."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments/kudos much appreciated. 
> 
> If you are feeling generous, I'm attempting to supplement some of my income with tips, so I can focus more on my writing career. If you have a dollar or two to spare, I would greatly appreciate it. 
> 
> ko-fi.com/continuitygains


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